My last few posts have taken a lot of emotional energy. So I thought I’d lighten the mood by getting something off my chest. When I was in high school (which was, you know, not that long ago….*cough*) you could only like a one kind of music. You could like EITHER hip hop and dance music, OR alternative/rock music. Not both. If you liked both, you didn’t FIT anywhere. And high school is all about where you FIT. So you just had to choose. And I fell into the alternative/rock category. Dressed in silvers jeans and halter tops with ball chain jewelry and rings on all my fingers, undone plaid shirts for jackets and a big yellow Sport Walkman on my hip all the time. In order to fit into the skater crowd I surrounded myself with I needed to do just two things: 1. Love punk/rock/alternative music. The more obscure the better. 2. Passionately hate rap/hip-hop/dance music. And obviously country, too. I mean, that was a whole other group of kids who wore trench coats and cowboy hats! So I did. It was all lamenting that the Sex Pistols were before my time (shut up! They were way before my time!) and listening to the Rainbow Butt Monkeys before they changed their name to the radio friendly Finger 11. While simultaneously mocking the preppy kids and their gangsta-rap in the suburbs. I wore a black arm band when Kurt Cobain died. My first concert was Green Day when I was 13 and they had *just* made it big. I tried desperately to sneak into the dirty rocker bar in town to see Hole. …
